


no man is rich enough to buy back his past

by Aslee



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, also typical Aslee amounts of faffery and bullspit, its Zolf and Hamid and minimal the others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-06 02:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18378794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aslee/pseuds/Aslee
Summary: "Does Hamid not like Zolf?" Azu 'whispered' to Sasha, and Hamid is so used to her particular brand of obtuse that it almost doesn't register. It's not until he sees the worry flit into Zolf's eyes that he sucks in a breath so sharp that it burns all the way down to his toes. Hamid can't let Zolf think that he doesn't want this, can't let Zolf think that he belongs anywhere other than here. Sasha beats him to it, though, with a snort."Hamid likes Zolf plenty. He's just a prat about it, sometimes."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roswyrm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/gifts).



> IT'S SOMEBODY'S BIRTHDAY

It wasn't until he saw Zolf again, the sobs already rising up in the back of his throat, that Hamid understood how much he had missed his best friend.

Because that was what Zolf was, at the end of all things. Bertie never had been, had proven that over and over again, and Sasha was brilliant and loyal, but Zolf had been… special. Zolf had been the one he cared about so intensely it inspired him to scream and cry and do all the things his family had tried to train out of him. It was Zolf that had held him the darkness, Zolf who had saved him from himself, Zolf who had inspired him to lead. Zolf was his best friend.

And Hamid was a mass of tears shaped something like a halfling.

Grizzop and Azu both looked worried-- Well, Azu looked worried. Grizzop looked like he thought Hamid had finally lost it. Hamid couldn't blame them. He didn't know what Sasha had told them, but he could never bring himself to talk about Zolf with them. It felt wrong, somehow. The early days, when they were still working on the name, was something so precious to him, and words couldn't explain it. Especially not to the people who had replaced Zolf and Bertie, thereby changing the entire dynamic.

Sasha, though, knew Hamid at his absolute worst, and the tears didn't phase her at all. After she greeted Zolf (Lowkey as always, like Zolf was catching up with them after lagging behind to catch up on some paperwork. Why did that thought rip a sob out of Hamid's throat?), she faded to the back of their group, looking between Zolf and Hamid with a wide, expectant grin. She had planned this surprise, Hamid realised, but was too distracted to be offended.

Zolf had always been the one to carry the full brunt of Hamid's emotional outlash, but he'd never smiled like that about it. His smile was soft, almost fond, and Hamid could feel his organs quaking at the way the emotion echoed in Zolf's clear, blue eyes.

"Well," Zolf said, and, oh god. Hamid had forgotten how deep and lovely Zolf's voice was, oh god, he was sobbing even harder now. He was so happy. "I guess some things never change."

"Shut up," Hamid said. And then, quickly, "No, wait, I didn't.... Don't leave."

Zolf's brow furrowed, but his smile didn't fade-- Just turned a bit sad at the edges, the happiness wilting. Hamid felt the loneliness in his chest start building again. "I'm not going anywhere, Hamid."

If anything, Hamid cried harder.

"Sorry," Grizzop said, in his usual 'I'm not trying to be incredibly rude, but I unfortunately will be' voice. "Who are you?"

"It's Zolf," Hamid sobbed. "It's.... Zolf."

Azu looked confused. "What is a Zolf?"

"I'm a Zolf. Zolf Smith, in fact. Founder of..." Zolf paused. "Sorry, what was it you were calling it now? Right, sorry. LOLOMG."

"Ah, right," Grizzop said. "The cleric they left in Prague."

Hamid wailed.

"Does Hamid not like Zolf?" Azu 'whispered' to Sasha, and Hamid is so used to her particular brand of obtuse that it almost doesn't register. It's not until he sees the worry flit into Zolf's eyes that he sucks in a breath so sharp that it burns all the way down to his toes. Hamid can't let Zolf think that he doesn't want this, can't let Zolf think that he belongs anywhere other than here.

Sasha beats him to it, though, with a snort. "Hamid likes Zolf plenty. He's just a prat about it, sometimes."

The tears almost stop when Hamid draws himself up into full height, prepared to be affronted, but Zolf ruins all composure by coming to his rescue. "Stop it, Sasha. You know how Hamid can get when he's hungry; A couple dire lobsters and he'll be right as rain."

"I'm right here," Hamid wibbles, but it doesn't come out as the protest he intends it. It's more a statement: I'm right here, Zolf. I'm right here, pay attention to me. Then again, he's not sure if he wants Zolf to notice the teary, snotty mess he must be at the moment.

"Wow," Grizzop says. "I can't believe you used to be weirder than you are now."

"Grizzop," Azu scolds, but before she can continue (and embarrass Hamid further by discussing every schmoopy, ridiculous emotion written across his face), Hamid interrupts.

"No, you're all right," Hamid said. He took a deep breath, tries not to notice that the fondness is creeping back into the edges of Zolf's smile. "We should all get dinner. Zolf, you've... It would mean a lot to us, if you would meet the new team."

"I'd love to."

The easy agreement almost threw Hamid off, and certainly made him suspicious. Nothing with Zolf had ever been easy, from beginning to end. His sudden agreeableness was something Hamid hadn't expected or even wanted. Or, maybe, Zolf's growth didn't dissolve in the face of an old friend like Hamid's tended to.

"Perfect," Hamid said. He, and the rest of the group, were pretending that fresh tears weren't gathering in the corner of his eyes. "I'll go freshen up, and meet you all in the dining room. Yes?"

The team agrees easily enough, even if Sasha hesitates, but Zolf lingers for a moment. The doubt is clear in his eyes. After all, Hamid has never needed time or a bathroom to get himself stage ready.

"I just... need a moment," Hamid said, and Zolf nodded.

"'Course," he said, "it's a lot. You've been through a lot."

"Well," Hamid joked, "You seem to be handling it fine."

Zolf laughed, a low, rusty sound. It was different, now, like a record covered in dust. When was the last time Hamid had heard Zolf laugh? Before Prague, obviously, but... Before Paris? Before Dover? He couldn't remember.

"Do I? I don't feel fine."

Hamid winced. "Zolf," he said, softly. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

The look that crosses Zolf's face must be a look that all religious figures learn, at one point in their lives. It's a mix of "oh, look at this stupid beast, how I pity it," mixed with, "look at this abhorrent creature, how it disgusts me." Hamid had seen it in the eyes of many a priestess in his childhood, and Grizzop and Azu had both conquered halves of it. Zolf was the only one who had managed, so far, to also make it seem fond, as if Hamid's slight was somehow endearing. It always unsettled him, threw him off whatever self-destructive spiral he'd been ready to fling himself into. 

Honestly, Hamid wishes he'd known Zolf at University. 

"Of course I'm staying," Zolf says. He starts off after Sasha and the rest, and Hamid still isn't used to the fluidity of Zolf motions now that he's got two (magic) legs again. It's unfair, how much the new stability in his shoulders shows off how broad and strong they are. The last thing Hamid needs is even more reasons to miss him when he's gone. "I need to make sure the new recruits are taking care of you better than the last two idiots, don't I?" 

And then he just... leaves, like that sentence couldn't be broken down into a thousand meanings, a million messages that Hamid could spend the next six hours dissecting. It's enough to paralyze Hamid, leaving him stuck stock-still in the hotel lobby until a well-meaning conceirge comes and pokes him along. Hamid trudges to the bathroom, replaying the conversation over to himself. It feels more like a daydream than a memory, like one of those silly fantasies he used to have, all prince charming and being swept off his feet. Although, it's less about the adventures than it used to be.

Once upon a time, Hamid wanted princes and princesses. He wanted grand adventures and crowns, to achieve great deeds that could be shown as brazenly as the medals on his chest. Reality worked that out of him quickly enough. After everything in London, Hamid had learned that no one was coming to save him. Paris taught him that grand adventures and great deeds were sometimes things you didn't want to show. Sometimes they were things you wanted to forget about long enough to sleep. But it was okay: Hamid had picked up new dreams. Dreams of him and Zolf, of Sasha and Bertie, all four of them a happy little family in the face of certain death. It had been a dream born from an almost. 

Prague took that dream from him, too. 

Hamid relished in the sting of cold water against his face, dripping down his neck. It made the world feel a little more real, a little less like the memory of those old daydreams. Seeing Zolf had led him back to that intense longing for a home-- But, no, that had been the fourth lesson, the one that Cairo taught him. Hamid didn't know how to be the new him around someone who still had his hands around the tenderest parts of Hamid's heart. 

When he opened his eyes, they were molten and draconic, the tips of teeth peeking out over his lips. 

They would have to figure it out together.


	2. Chapter 2

This was supposed to be a business meeting. 

That was the lie Zolf had told the Americans when he'd left, anyway. They had been suspicious, when he'd packed his things and flitted back to England within a week of showing up. For good reason, too; Zolf wouldn't have trusted himself, if he had been in their position. It hadn't been part of the plan, when Zolf had sought the Separatists out. He'd only wanted to know about his family, and puzzle out what exactly it was that they were doing against the Meritocracy. Maybe, just maybe, if the explanations had made enough sense, he would have joined them. Zolf felt no real loyalty to the Meritocrats; He was still a mercenary at heart. Besides, he wasn't sure how much he had ever bought that "talent" bollocks as much as he just... didn't care who was running the place. A part of him wondered if his influence could protect Hamid and Sasha from their wrath. 

If the Separatists had turned out to be as greedy and high-minded as the people they wanted so desperately to be free from, well. America had ships that needed crewmen. 

However the plan would have unfolded, the Cult of Hades dashed it upon the rocks. They showed up in America only a few days after Zolf did. Though the robed figures weren't exactly chatty, the ones captured had loosened their tongues enough once he had threatened to tear them out. Zolf had hopped on the next airship out, with the very simple excuse that he still had enough professional courtesy to see the rest of it through. 

Of course, he left out the part where it was less professional courtesy and more the heart-shattering urge to never lose another family. 

And also the part where one of said teammates was a descendant of one of the metiocrats, and also showing some very dragon-like traits lately, but. Well. They didn't need to know everything. 

Still, Zolf had never intended for this to become a big happy reunion, but Sasha had insisted that Hamid needed this so strongly that Zolf was forced to believe her. He wasn't sure how sitting here, smushed between Sasha and the shockingly pink half-orc was helping, but he still couldn't shake the memory of Hamid looking at Zolf like he was afraid one or both of them would disappear. 

"So," the half-orc (what was her name? Azizi?) said. Her voice was deep and kind, ruthlessly polite in a way that made Zolf think of his mother and afternoon tea. He felt like a little kid again, being interviewed about his day at school and the banker's boy he'd once made the mistake of calling handsome. "How exactly did you and Hamid meet?" 

"Ah." Zolf threw Sasha a harried look that she pointedly ignored. He regretted not being her boss so, so much. "Well, the same way I met Sasha, really. I was doing crowd control with Ber--" Zolf cleared his throat. "With Bertie, and, ah. Sasha had some old friends--" 

"Acquaintances, really," Sasha said. Grizzop laughed for the first time all night, and Zolf didn't know what was weirder: That Sasha had finally found a soulmate, or that she'd had to go all the way to a judicious European goblin to find them. 

"... Right, well, they were making a fuss, so Bertie and I stepped in, made a bigger fuss, and then Hamid..." Zolf sighed at the memory. Halfway through a fight, trying desperately to make sure his new heavy didn't murder someone in broad daylight, and then there's this extremely handsome man... sprouting fake blood from his wrists like a macabre street magician. "Hamid tried to talk the crowd into behaving." 

"You hired him to talk?" Grizzop said, and Zolf could hear the disbelief. "Hamid?" 

"He's good at it." Zolf wasn't about to broker any shit about Hamid, not from these strangers. Maybe especially from them. Didn't they know how lucky they were to be here without having to worry that their very presence was just... weighing Hamid and Sasha down? "Yeah, he can get a little emotional, but so do most civilians. A real mercenary group needs a face, someone to chat with the employers. Our employment with the government wasn't exactly in the business plans. The fact that he turned out to be an eerily capable 'wizard' was a bonus." 

"Oh, do Sasha next," Azu said, excited. 

Zolf snorted. "I was pretty sure if I let her go, she'd be dead before sunset." 

"Oi!" 

"No," Sasha interrupted Grizzop's protests, "he's right. I was stupid." 

"We all were," Zolf agreed. "I hired fucking Bertie." 

The table erupts into laughter. 

It should feel a little mean, laughing about a dead man. Azu had never even met Bertie, and she was laughing as hard as the rest of them. At the end of the day, though, she'd heard the stories, and, well... It was Bertie. If anyone deserved to be disrespected at their grave, it was that prat. Even after everything between them, Zolf had trusted Bertie to take care of Hamid. Another stupid mistake, on Zolf's part.

(Zolf wasn't sure if Hamid had been able to forgive Bertie's spirit, yet, for what had happened to his sister. 

Zolf hadn't. 

He never would.)

"What's so funny?" 

Zolf's mouth went dry. 

Grizzop and Azu both launched into some awkward, interlocked conversation, but the sudden ringing in Zolf's ears drowned it out. He'd known about Hamid's new knack for transformation, of course. There'd been mention in the letters, and Sasha had warned him beforehand that it could be a little shocking. Zolf wasn't sure what to expect, had been a little worried that he would look into Hamid's eyes and not be able to find humanity, but. Aphrodite be sweet, he hadn't expected this. 

Hamid's eyes were liquid gold, the pupils a thin, calculating slit, even when he smiled. Scales were beginning to peek out over the bones around his eyes, the brass mimicking an odd makeup trend. His teeth were sharp but uniform, still sparkling clean and white. It spoke of hidden, unfathomable power, strictly controlled. The magic of dragons roiling around in a halfling's skin, the mask of a businessman hiding the feral flicker of fire. Hamid had always been handsome, but there was something about this was.... 

Beautiful, Zolf realised. Because being half in love with the man wasn't enough, Zolf had to find his dragon form attractive. 

Poseidon preserve him. 

"Ah," Zolf gritted out, throat scratching around the syllable. 

"Life, generally," Sasha said, as if Zolf wasn't falling apart beside her. She stood, gesturing at Hamid to slid into her space in the booth. "Go on, then." 

Hamid obliged, blushing at Zolf as he did. "Hi," he whispered, ignoring how Azu cooed from Zolf's other side. Zolf didn't answer, too busy trying to think of ways not to choke on his own tongue. "So," Hamid said, a louder. "Have we ordered yet?" 

Blessedly, as the dinner and conversation went on, Hamid relaxed. The draconic features began to fade along with the lie in his smile, the conversation flowing from him as easily as the wine flowed into his glass. Less fortunately, Zolf couldn't manage to find himself less drawn to Hamid's eyes when they were brown than gold, the shape of them still as beautiful without the scales highlighting them. What's worse was his mouth; Without the points of teeth, there was only plushness, bruised from nervous chewing. 

Zolf was holding up his fifth of the conversation, somehow, but he couldn't tell you a word of what he said. 

Halfway through the night, Hamid leaned his weight into Zolf's side. It was only then that Zolf realised how close they'd gotten over dinner. They'd cut themselves off from the rest of the world, carving out a little place at the table just for them, a space in the conversation where they could quietly talk about everything and nothing. Ridiculously, he felt the urge to blush, but he refused to give Sasha (or Grizzop, oh gods, that was a thing he had to worry about now, wasn't it?) that kind of ammo. 

"Hello there," Zolf said. Shit, was he flirting? He didn't realise how fond he'd sounded until it had already come out of his mouth. Good lord, he sounded like Wilde. He was going to fling himself into the ocean and not come out ever, ever again. 

Hamid giggled and burrowed further into Zolf's side. Too tipsy and tired, Hamid's blush could not be contained. It lent him a sort of innocence that was in stark contrast to the sheer power he'd been radiating when he stalked out of the bathroom. When he stared up at Zolf through those thick, dark lashes, still as beautiful, Zolf knew he was done for. "Hi." 

Zolf waited, patient with tipsy shenanigans as a pirate could be, for the conversation to resume, but nothing ever came. Hamid continued to stare at him dreamily, smile ever present. Eventually, he had to ask. "What?" Zolf said, trying not to laugh. "Have I got something on my face?" He rubs his hand across his face haphazardly, pausing only when Hamid makes a small, hurt noise. "What?" Zolf says again, even as Hamid reaches up to tug his hand away. 

"You're ruining it," Hamid whines. 

"Ruining what?" 

"I'm looking at you," Hamid says, very seriously, as if that makes any fucking sense. 

"Sorry, what?" 

"I--" Hamid laughs, a little hysterical. "I missed looking at you. I missed you. Let me look." 

Zolf doesn't know how to respond to that. It's blunter than they usually are face to face-- In fact, Zolf doesn't know if either one of them have ever revealed that they care about each other anywhere other than the page. (Except, perhaps, if Paris counts. But Zolf tries not to think about Paris. How he almost ruined everything.) No one's even almost died, and here they are. Talking about feelings. 

It's something of a new experience. 

"Wow," Grizzop says, and that's how Zolf remembers that other people exist. 

Hamid pulls back, sobered by the presence of others. Zolf can feel himself grow colder without his supernatural warmth pressed into his skin. There's an awkward moment where Zolf watches Azu watch them like she's observing some wild animal, and then Sasha stands up once again. 

"Right," she says, using every once of the awkwardness left in her body to be as forceful as possible. "I saw something shiny next door when we came in. I'm going to steal it. Bye." She leaves like that, Hamid gaping in her wake. 

"Sasha!" Grizzop yelps. "Sasha, we talked about this!" He skitters after her, and Azu stands to follow him. 

"Apologies, friends," she says, but there is nothing but glee in her eyes. "But I believe they may need me." 

Hamid and Zolf both watch her go for a moment, the air around them still as if the world itself is trying to process what just happened. 

"Well," Zolf manages to say. "At least they seem close." Oddly, this makes Hamid's shock turn to something that looks vaguely like displeasure. A concerned hum vibrates up Zolf's throat before he can even think to stop it. "What's the matter?" he asks, gentler than he means to. 

"No, sorry." Hamid shakes himself and manages a small smile. "I'm glad they're friends. Grizzop... is wonderful for Sasha, really. There's nothing he wouldn't do for her, and Sasha really needed someone after Brock, and it was never going to be me or Bertie and... Well, Azu is a sweetheart, you know that. And she loves to protect people, and Sasha and Grizzop never just admit when they need help, plus there's the paladin thing and the woman thing, so of course they get on well." 

"But?" Zolf prompts. 

"It's lonely, sometimes," Hamid admits, softly. Zolf can feel his heart quake. He did this-- By not being there, by not protecting Bertie, by... Well, by being his disastrous self. "I'll never be able to be part of that." 

"Sasha would never--" 

"It's partly my own fault, Zolf." He's never going to be able to get over the way Hamid says his voice sometimes, like the name actually means something. More than that, it means something good, and pure, something that Hamid wants him to understand. If Zolf were more full of himself, he'd call it love. "I haven't exactly been making an effort to be part of the best friends club." 

Zolf would be lying if he said that didn't make him a little worried. He had noticed the tension between Grizzop and Hamid, but it didn't seem all that bad. After all, it wasn't like the London Rangers had always gotten along. "Hamid, if something is... making you uncomfortable, no job is worth that." 

Hamid laughs, pats Zolf's furry cheek. "Nothing like that, though it is darling of you to worry, Zolf. I mean, of course I won't always get on with them. They all grew up so differently than me." 

"So did I," Zolf points out. "Never stopped us." 

"Never stopped us from getting in our fair share of awful rows, either," Hamid says, and, well. Fair. The difference, Zolf thinks, and the reason protectiveness rises in his chest, is that there was always a fondness to it, between them. He only yelled at Hamid because he cared if Hamid lived to see another day, and because Hamid seemed determined that he wouldn't. Or, sometimes, because Hamid was forcing him to be a functioning man again when all Zolf wanted to do was lay down and die. 

They never wanted to change each other, never looked at each other and wished someone else was there, instead. 

"So why the arm's length, then? It's not like you." 

All the light in Hamid's eyes fades. His smile never wavers, but Zolf can feel the sadness in it anyway. "I thought I could protect myself, I suppose. Cairo was... horrible, and Grizzop was already pretty convinced that I'm a murderer and..." Hamid sighs. "Oh, I don't know, Zolf. It seemed easier to accept that I would never really be friends with them. It was a good excuse, anyway. It's hard enough, caring about Sasha. I don't-- I don't want to lose anyone else." 

"Oh." Zolf can feel his heart twisting in his chest, unspoken words beating at his ribs. "That'd be my fault, then." 

Hamid looks stricken. "Zolf, no!" 

It's nice of him to protest on Zolf's behalf, but Zolf doesn't operate under denial when he can help it. Prague was a selfish decision. A necessary one, perhaps, but one that fucked over the people he loved the most. It will take some time to heal from that, no matter what Hamid says. Zolf doesn't say that, though. For all he knows their fights are rooted in love, the last thing Zolf wants to do tonight is argue. 

"I am sorry," Zolf says, because he has to say something to make up for everything. "Maybe not for leaving, but for... leaving you." 

Hamid doesn't look like he knows what to think about that, and Zolf can't blame him. There's an implication there, a fantasy that Zolf hasn't been able to shake. It's his favourite what-if. More than the Navy, more than London, just... What if he had asked Hamid to come with him? What if the three of them had sat down in that bar and Zolf had said, hey, guys, this whole Simulacrum thing has gone a bit above the call of duty, what if we left Bertie to answer to Wilde and fucked off to have real lives again? More than that, what if they had said yes? There's a place for Sasha in that dream, because there will always be a place for Sasha in Zolf's family now, but at the core its yet another wish built around Hamid. Zolf can't deny that. 

Can't deny how bald-faced obvious it is, now. 

"I don't know what I would have said," Hamid says. His voice is so soft and so raw, Zolf can't imagine it being anything but honest. The reality of it finally being addressed slices through the soft parts of Zolf like a warm scalpel. "But I wish you would have asked." 

Zolf futilely tries to soothe his cracked lips with a dry tongue. "Then I'm sorry for not asking." 

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Hamid insists. "I just missed you." 

"I missed you, too," Zolf says. 

There's a moment where neither of them know how to respond to this, the moment they've created between them. Zolf wonders if he should take Hamid in his arms, finally. Wonders if Hamid expects something, if there's a rule to this he doesn't quite know yet. Eventually, though, Hamid laughs-- genuine and bright, and lets himself collapse into Zolf's side. 

"Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way," he says, dryly. 

Zolf wraps his arm around Hamid's shoulders on instinct, pretends he doesn't notice that he's pulling Hamid closer. Now that the tension is gone out of Hamid, he's small and soft, tucked into Zolf's side. Sometimes, when Hamid is a ball of lies and diplomacy and sheer magical power, it's easy to forget that he's a full foot shorter than Zolf. Now, though, he fits so well under Zolf's arm that Zolf can swear he can feel his heart actually swell. 

"You brought it on yourself, you absolute drama queen," Zolf says, the not bothering to control the mirth in his voice. "I cannot believe you started crying in the middle of the foyer. It was like we were in London again." 

"Oh, well excuse me for making you admit to feeling a genuine emotion, Mr. Smith. Won't happen again." Hamid sticks a claw in Zolf's side just firmly enough to make Zolf squirm and swat at his scaled hands. 

Hamid catches his free hand in between both of his own, the claws gentle against his skin, the scales warm and smooth. Neither of them mentions it, the conversation fading around them. They lean against each other as the cafe mills around them, basking in comfortable silence. Hamid tucks his head into the crook of Zolf's neck. His claws morph back into hands, his soft fingertips trace Zolf's callouses. 

Zolf memorizes the depth of Hamid's perfume, the softness of his hair against Zolf's skin, the way their bodies shift together when they breathe. He doesn't know when he'll have this again, if they'll have time after tonight, if the Separatists will come after him if he tries to stay, if either of them will even survive the struggle. He doesn't know if Hamid will even want to, after the emotion fades from the night. But he'll always have this memory, at least. 

"You know," Hamid says drowsily, after dozing on Zolf's shoulder for an hour or two. "I don't think the rest of the team is coming back." 

Zolf snorts. "You think we should be worried?" 

"Mm, no. We can worry tomorrow." Hamid snuggles further into Zolf's side, humming against his shoulder when Zolf makes a soft noise of complaint. A moment passes, and Zolf can feel the thoughts vibrating around in Hamid's head when the halfling stiffens against him. "You will... be here tomorrow, right?" 

Oh. 

That hurts, for all Zolf deserves it. 

It's the pain that helps him decide. He doesn't want to be this person, a man who Hamid can't even trust to be here when he wakes up. He doesn't want to be the team member who leaves his best friends to fight demigods and cultists alone. He doesn't want to live his life running anymore. Zolf wants to be here, for Hamid and Sasha and their new friends. Separatists and dragons and Oscar Wilde be damned. 

Zolf presses a kiss to Hamid's gel-stiffened fringe. "Yeah, of course." 

"Good." Hamid pulls back enough to dig his chin into the meat of Zolf's shoulder, so close their noses are brushing. "I've decided I'm keeping you." 

"Hmm." Zolf pretends to think about it, all squinting eyes and furrowed brows. "Yeah, I think I can live with that." 

Tears are gathering in Hamid's eyes, unshed but still sparkling in the corners, when their lips brush for the first time. The second time, their grins are so wide that everything is awkward and perfect and Hamid pulls away laughing. Zolf has to reel him back in with firm hands and an admonishing mutter, and even then Hamid is still giggling as he melts into Zolf's chest. 

Yeah. 

Some things never change.


End file.
